


A Miracle Will Happen

by jessitiz



Series: What Once was Gone, Again [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Problems All Over the world, Shadow Realm, Why are there so many dead people in Yugioh?, let's fix that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessitiz/pseuds/jessitiz
Summary: In Cairo, a man stands between two parked cars. He’s bleeding.In Santiago, a man wakes up on a mountain. He walks down the mountain in gold accented sandals.In São Paulo, a model takes off her shoes. She’s wearing her wedding dress.In Bangkok, a thief steals a car. He drives north.A girl wakes up in a warehouse. Another girl wakes up next to her.A boy narrowly avoids getting hit by a car.An old man wanders Domino.An Ishtar slips in the shower.A Pharaoh walks into a 7-11.OrThe line between the Shadow Realm and Death is thin, and all who have touched that Realm come out changed.
Series: What Once was Gone, Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610380
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Shiamon Muran

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Yu-gi-oh like 10 years ago and this has been just ruminating, aging like fine grape juice since then.
> 
> I haven't really interacted in much of the Yu-gi-oh fandom, so if there are common fandom characterizations or headcannons, then I have no idea what they are (Unless TAS referenced them before like 2014, and even then only maybe.) I hope my take is up to snuff.
> 
> Aa lot of this AU is going to be coming in small bursts. I just don't have the patience to wait forever for big things to happen, so they'll happen first and I'll go back and fill in gaps as I go.
> 
> Comments are more than encouraged. I forgot that first chapter notes post on every chapter.

In Cairo, a man stands between two parked cars. He’s bleeding.

In Santiago, a man wakes up on a mountain. He walks down the mountain in gold accented sandals. 

In São Paulo, a model takes off her shoes. She’s wearing her wedding dress.

In Bangkok, a thief steals a car. He drives north.

A girl wakes up in a warehouse. Another girl wakes up next to her.

A boy narrowly avoids getting hit by a car.

An old man wanders Domino. 

An Ishtar slips in the shower.

A Pharaoh walks into a 7-11.

A man wakes up in Athens. He knows where he is, for though many things have changed since the last time he was here, so much has stayed the same.

A mother wakes up in Biobío. She doesn't know what has come of her children.

Another mother wakes up in a desert. 

A magician wakes up in Whales, only to immediately have his soul summoned to Tokyo. 

And the world wakes up with a little of what it had been missing.

#

“Look, all I’m saying is, that this is 100% not our responsibility.”

Yugi looked out restaurant window. There wasn’t anyone who looked glaringly out of place. Not at the moment. “But--”

“No, Yugi, listen,” Joey said. “It is not our responsibility,” waving his french fries in a circle, gesturing to all of them “And it’s not our fault, neither. The millenium items are gone. We’re all out of magic--”

“Except in our decks,” Tristan said, “Aren’t they all literally monster spirits?”

“Let me make a  _ Point _ , Tristan,” Joey responded, flinging the fries in his hands across the table at Tristan. Tristan tried to dodge and bumped into Bakura, who only clutched his drink more firmly. 

“We saved the world already. Multiple times. And unlike the time it was a bunch of monster spirits on the loose, all these people coming out of time are just living their lives.” Joey gestured to the group.“And we’re just living our lives. Our wonderful post-high-school lives.” 

Joey smiled really big, reaching across the table to steal some of Tristan’s fries. “And as post-high-schoolers who aren’t lugging around magical artifacts, we don’t have to get involved in whatever the heck is causing people to show up wherever.”

“Give me back my fries,” Tristan demands, bending low over the table.

“I already gave you fries,” Joey said through a mouthful of mush. “You just dropped them.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to be a decision we make.” 

Everyone turned to Bakura, who was looking intensely at his cup. He was frowning. “Usually magic just. Happens.” He adjusted his straw and looked at the group. ”We don’t get a choice to get involved or not.”

“You good, Bakura?”

“So far,” Bakura said. “But I never get a lot of warning before I got involved in,” he shrugs, “Things.”

“Let us know if anything’s...wrong, ok?” Yugi said. “If and however anyone gets involved in this, nobody has to do it alone.

Bakura smiled. “Right.”

“Uh, Yugi?” Tristan said.

Yugi turned towards Tristan and the window. “Yeah?” he said before freezing.

“What is your grandpa  _ wearing _ ?”

Outside the window, an old man who certainly looked like Solomon Motou, if Solomon Motou was inclined to wear a large blue hat, decorated with a gold cobra and eye. While the restaurant window hid a lot of the rest of his outfit, the whole table could see the white and dark blue fabric that made up much of the rest. It ruffled with the winter wind.

He was squinting through the window at them.

Joey was the first to comment. 

“Is that a millenium hat?”

The ghost of a memory flickered through Yugi’s mind. “That’s, that’s not Grandpa, but…” Yugi kicked his legs over Joey to slide out of the booth and ran to the restaurant’s entrace. The old man turned towards him as the door chimed open.

“Aren’t you cold?!” Yugi called out. 

The old man didn’t reply immediately, but continued looking at Yugi. 

“Entuten ax?”

Well, that just made too much sense. 

Yugi sighed. He gestured for the man to come towards him, and, when the man got close enough, for him to go into the restaurant. The man obliged, though he didn’t stop looking at everything like he didn’t trust it.

As they approached the table, Joey asked, “Not your Grandpa?”

Yugi shook his head. “Definitely, not, no.”

“Well, then I guess some introductions are in order.” Joey swung his legs around so he was facing Not-Grandpa directly, plastering on a big grin. He held his hand to his chest. “ I’m Joey.”

Tristan leaned out over the table and held his hand up. “I’m Tristan.”

“Uhh,” Bakura said. “Ryou.”

Not-Grandpa grunted and took a small step forward. He pointed to Joey.

“Joey.”

“Yeah! Not-Grandpa gets it!” Joey yelled quietly.

“Tristan,” Not-Grandpa said, pointing to Tristan. 

“Yep, Tristan,” Tristan said, throwing Not-Grandpa a thumbs up. 

Not-Grandpa pointed to himself. “Shiamun.”

“Shiamun!” Tristan and Joey both chime, pointing at Shiamun, who laughs.

“Man, communication is great.” Joey said. “We don’t know a thing about his guy, but at least we’ve got his name.”

“The news said the new people were from all sorts of places and times. I wonder what--,”

“Bakura.”

Shaimun was pointing at Bakura, who’s face rapidly went through 10 different emotions, including but not limited to shock, shame, and discomfort. It settled on pained, and he slid his cup out of the way so he could bang his head on the table. Around his arms, the rest of the table could hear a muffled, “Yep, that’s correct.”

Tristan gently reached over and patted Bakura on the shoulder. “It  _ is _ your name.”

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t know that!” Bakura said through gritted teeth. He pulled his head back up off the table, only to keep it bowed and to clasp his hands in front of him. “Which means he knew the other one, and,” Bakura took a breath. “Man, I just really hope…”

Shiamun’s stomach growled. Everyone but Bakura turned to him. Shiamun’s face scrunched up a bit, and he grabbed the table in front of him, swaying a little. 

Bakura sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna get him some food.”

Everyone watched as Bakura headed over to the counter. Shiamun, after a moment, turned to Yugi. 

“Pharaoh.”

Yugi smiled sadly. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s not here.”

Shiamun was silent for a moment, looking Yugi over with a critical eye. “Entuten ax?”

Yugi met his eyes. 

“I’m Yugi.”


	2. Dartz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man wakes up in Athens. He knows where he is, for though many things have changed since the last time he was here, so much has stayed the same.

When Paradius split, it split catastrophically. With Dartz’s disappearance, the company, large as it was, caved in on itself. As it dissolved, each company reabsorbed the shares Paradius had held. The giant company hadn’t ever funded more than absolute necessity of paper pushers, who left, and all the individuals involved in feeding the Great Beast quickly and enthusiastically entered other lines of work. With no heirs, Paradius simply ceased to exist. Vanished down to nothing.

Almost nothing.

While shares returned to all companies, within the fine print for several transportation based companies, which had grown significantly under Paradius, was a line saying that should Dartz ever need personal use of their services, he would be able to.

And his personal accounts bore many names.

And despite the loss of Paradius, Dartz found himself quite satisfied with his safety net.

Dartz laid back on the king sized bed in his hotel suite and grabbed a sandwich from the room service delivery he’d had sent up. He was in Florence, now. In a very fancy, relatively old hotel. One of his old partner companies had headquarters in the city, and Dartz had figured that this would be the most convenient place to take stock of his resources and which of his backup transportation methods still existed.

It had only been about a year. Most were still thriving.

Dartz remembered the Pharaoh beating him. He remembered being freed from the Orichalcos, being reunited with his family, passing on.

And though he knew he must have been well and truly dead, he was here, with a mortal body and no memory of the time between the Nameless Pharaoh’s victory and waking up in Athens a week ago.

The news quietly droned on from the TV across from the bed as he took a sip of some, again, relatively old, wine. Reports were slowly coming in, but still coming in, of other people, strangers, appearing in strange places or panicing in foreign languages no one local could understand. Dartz thought he might recognize a few of them.

What had woken them? Pulled these people from the past and from their rests. How many were people Dartz or his associates had hurt.

Dartz exhaled and swung his feet, keeping his drink as he made his way to the balcony. The wind was brisk, but not uncomfortable. He took another sip of wine. 

He needed goals. A dead man has no agenda, but living men do, and as Dartz was alive again--alive and for the first time in millenia not partially possessed--he needed to decide what he wanted and needed to do.

Normally, first priority would be food and shelter. Finding a stable place to figure things out while not dying.

Dartz turned around and looked at his very expensive, fancy hotel suite.

Next.

He didn’t know where Chris and his father were, but if they had managed to stay haunting the world of the living while he was under the control of the Orichalcos, there was a high probability that they had been caught up in this as well. They would be able to take care of themselves, for a time. His whole family at least wouldn’t have the same communication issues as many others were having. But they still would likely need financial support, unless they found charity with those they happened to appear near. 

Which meant that Dartz did need to look for them.

This would be a monumental task. One of the men who had appeared on the news in the last hour had appeared to be a high ranking Qin Dynasty official. Whatever force had the power to revive the dead had also scattered them everywhere.

So his family could be anywhere.

To find them, he would need connections. That likely meant rebuilding Paradius, or otherwise expanding his reach. 

Rebuilding and rebranding, Dartz thought, thinking back on the woman he had recognized on the news. 

Also, since this was a worldwide issue, there would likely be powerful entities involved in making sure everyone either got back to where they came from or properly existed where they were now. They’d need interpreters, and Dartz was quite good with languages after ten thousand years, and though he certainly couldn’t be the contact for every conversation, he could help train others.

They’d also need to transport people around the world, which Dartz remaining contacts specialized in.

This wasn’t impossible, but it was going to be auderous, and he would need allies.

Dartz emptied the rest of his glass and stalked over to the desk, where a pad and pen were resting.

Who first? Who of his former enemies would help him find his family?

Kaiba? 

Or Pegasus?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typed out an entire Dartz chapter while trying to outline. 
> 
> Oops.
> 
> I've discovered a while lot of writing things on an international scale is just. Googling the most boring things about different places. I spent a whole hour looking for info on Ancient Egyptian naming conventions. It's 54 degrees F in Florence right now.
> 
> I also forgot that Florence was Bakura's TAS moniker, and now I have to figure out how to incorporate that somehow. Because it's hilarious.
> 
> Also everything about this mess is bothering Kaiba Boy _So Bad_ and it's about to get worse.


	3. Noah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boy narrowly avoids getting hit by a car. This time. He still ends up in the hospital because of the last time he got hit by a car.

People were showing up out of nowhere. That was true, and undeniable. There were a few clips of people just materializing in the middle of streets or during events that the news was playing to death. And each new notable appearance compounded and made it sound like the world population had doubled or something.

It hadn’t. 

Though these headlines were certainly growing exponentially.

Mokuba looked over his data again, one laptop on the coffee table in Seto’s office open to a list of all recorded appearances, the other on his lap displaying a map as he shifted to sprawl himself out on the couch. He heard his brother’s keystrokes from the other side of the room.

The total, worldwide, was hovering around 2.5 million two weeks after the event. Not world doubling, but not insignificant. Mokuba was quite frankly impressed that countries were getting this information organized that fast. A number of countries were missing entirely from Mokuba’s data, or only had regional totals. A vast majority of reported appearances had happened in metropolitan areas. Barring some obvious diplomatic misinformation in places, it looked like everyone had been pretty evenly dispersed.

What was he even trying to glean from all this?

What was he expecting?

What was he looking for?

Mokuba groaned.

“What’s wrong.”

Mokuba bunched himself up on the couch. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“The zombie movie premise happening in the news.”

The clicking sound from Seto’s desk stopped. Mokuba clicked over to another news article. Some guy being discovered on top of a tourist-spot-mountain in Chile. No pictures. Amateur translation.

“You want to find out what’s causing it?” Seto asked, voice probing.

Mokuba hummed. “Well, yes, but I don’t think anyone has any leads on that mystery.”

“We could figure it out.”

“Waste of time,’ Mokuba said, waving his hand over his shoulder, as if Seto could it see through the back of the couch. “Only reason to solve it would be to, and even if people don’t like that random people are popping up in their backyard, nobody wants them dead.”

Seto didn’t answer for a moment. “We could repeat it?”

Mokuba laughed. “I’d rather not mess with whatever’s raising the dead.”

“Makes sense.” Seto said. “You want to find how we can make money off of these people appearing, then?”

“No, that’s easy,” Mokuba said. “Match people up so people find anyone people they know who are reappearing.” He clicked over to another news article; orphans showing up in Germany, wearing summer clothes in the middle of winter.

“Not get people back to where they came from?”

“That would be a good thing to do,” Mokuba said, staring at the pictures this article included. “Easy to add on, too, but you asked about making money off it.”

Seto didn’t respond immediately, and the room went silent. Mokuba moved to another article.

Seto sighed. “You want to help them.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah.” Mokuba sat up and looked over the couch at his brother. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Seto nodded, and returned to his computer, his typing resuming. “If you want to do it, free up the money for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

Seto just grunted back.

# 

Mokuba spent the rest of the workday burying himself in the fiances of the company. Not a bad way to spend a day, in his opinion. He ended up taking the work home with him, the way he always did when he found a cause to throw himself behind. Sure, he meant to put it down, but right as he and Seto were about to head back to the mansion, an accountant he’d roped into helping him found a way to access accounts that Kaiba Corp hadn’t touched since before Seto had taken over, and well.

That was probably going to be a financial mess, actually, and Mokuba wanted to have it over with before he started reallocating funds to help people.

And he wanted to help. So over with he would get it.

So, after dinner, he set a timer for half an hour. He only needed to figure out how much was in the accounts and where the money went, and then he could reroute it. Close the accounts, probably. If accounting didn’t know where it was going then Mokuba doubted it was going anywhere important. 

And if it was set up before Gozaburo was gone, then if it was funding anything important, it probably needed to stop immediately.

Most of the accounts were fairly simple. They were set up divide money up for use with specific contractors. Most of the contracts evidently ran out years ago, with excess money in the accounts. Mokuba made a note of what company each account was for and moves onto the next.

And then he found an account that was current. Last withdrawal just 6 days prior, and an actual withdrawal, not an invoice.

Mokuba scrolled down the list of transactions the account had. He went all the way to the start of the account, dated a little before he and Seto were adopted, and read.

At the start, it seems like the account focused on construction, if contractor names are anything to go by. There was also a good amount of research spending, with lots of components for 

And there were people on payroll through this account.

Mokuba sat up in his chair a little straighter. 

Paying people through this account meant this account was specifically kept away from the normal payroll accountants, and would be why he and Seto hadn’t caught this account firing away even after the takeover.

Mokuba didn’t bother pulling up the employee register. If Gozaburo paid these people through a separate account, then they might not even be in there. And their payroll data was right in front of him anyway, names included. Mokuba recognized a few of them, but...

He skipped down the list of transactions. Sure enough, most of the payroll transactions ended at or shortly after the takeover.

He skipped a little further. The final payroll payment happened around a year ago, in the middle of Battle City.

The final invoice happened shortly after, flagged as a final payment due to breach of contract.

Mokuba shifted, his face ending up closer to the screen as he leaned in. What could have possibly happened during Battle City that had ended the project this account was funding?

He was going to have to hunt through Kaiba Corp.’s normal accounts to get the answer to that question, because that was the end of the transaction list.

The end, except for that final withdrawal six days ago.

That had been initiated from an ATM in Melbourne.

Mokuba blinked.

Six days ago.

He clicked over to where the news articles from earlier in the day.

He clicked back over to the account, and looked at the last invoice and payroll dates.

Mokuba couldn’t name any projects that had suddenly expired during Battle City, but he could name a few people who had.

He could name seven, actually.

And he shared a name with two.

“Shit,” Mokuba said. “Shit.”

He stood, and paced around his desk, running his hand through his hair. 

This had turned out to be a very important account.

They needed to know who had withdrawn that money.

Unfortunately, people don’t need to sign for ATM withdrawals.

Mokuba sat down. He scrolled back through the list to see if they were going to magically offer answers, and wound up just staring at the date.

Six days ago.

Why only six days ago? Whoever it was must have been back since when all the other people started showing up, two weeks ago. Why wait a week to get money? Why hadn’t the company heard anything about it? 

Sure it was theoretically possible that one of the big five had decided to try and see how much they could pull out of Kaiba Corp., but was that likely?

They hadn’t even taken out that much, Mokuba thought. At least, not much relative to the size of the funds still in the account. Maybe the ATM had limited how much they could take out?

Mokuba looked at the clock. Just past ten. Australian banks would be closed for another ten or so hours, and he’d need that bank’s help if he was going to get anywhere past this.

He took a deep breath, and he let it out. He wouldn’t be able to solve this tonight. He’d call the bank in the morning and get footage of the ATM transaction. And he’d be able to go from there, whether that meant hiring a whole new team of lawyers or flying to Australia to pick his brother up.

Mokuba sighed. He closed his laptop and went to take a bath. He brushed his teeth, and changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed.

Half an hour later, Mokuba’s eyes flew open.

It only takes 10 hours to fly to Australia.

#

It actually took 14 hours to get to Melbourne, specifically. 

Mokuba took Roland with him. He was hoping for a specific person, but the odds were not in his favor, and he wasn’t stupid. While he’d definitely want to be there in person if it was who he hoped it was, he would probably be heading directly back to Japan if that didn’t pan out. He’d already been kidnapped enough to last a lifetime.

He was on the phone as soon as the authorizing ATM's bank is open, still hours out and thousands of miles in the air. He told the bank he suspected fraud. The bank responded they could get him information on the person who requested the withdrawal in the next few days.

He had it before he landed.

He spent the last hour in the air looping the security footage. It showed a man in scrubs very obviously copying the credentials in, reading from a small piece of paper.

Well, that explained the delay between when whoever it was should have gained access to the accounts. He looked up the nearest hospital to the ATM and re-watched the footage on the way to there.

He showed the footage to the receptionist, and after a perfectly reasonable, and expected, but still frustrating delve into bureaucracy, Mokuba found himself standing in front of a plain door in one of the hospitals inpatient wards.

Mokuba took a deep breath and opened the door.

Reclined in the bed, a book neatly closed in his lap and his blue hair mussed against the pillow, was Noah.

Noah, who was looking right at him.

Mokuba stopped in the doorway. The Noah he’d met had essentially been a computer program. This Noah, though bed-bound, was definitely physically and mentally present. Which was great! Amazing, A miracle. Just like everyone else who had magically shown up.

But everyone else who had appeared had not dealt with having their mind essentially separated from their body, and that meant Mokuba actually had no idea if Noah remembered the Arc or not.

Mokuba took a step into the room, the morning light filtering through the half-drawn curtains. “Good Morning, Noah.”

Noah smiled. “Hey, Mokuba.”

Mokuba smiled back. 

And then realized that didn’t mean Noah remembered actually meeting him, because Mokuba was a very public face of a very large company that even a Noah with no memories beyond his accident would have very good reason to look into.

“Um,” Mokuba said, eyes drifting to the side. “I don’t know where to start.”

There was a pause, and then the rustling of sheets. “Well, you can start...” Mokuba looked back up to see Noah flinging his sheets off to the side, revealing twin tubes of plaster, “...by complementing me on my upgrade.”

“Upgrade?” Mokuba laughed. “Not sure double leg casts are a very good upgrade.”

“True,” Noah replied, frowning as he tried to grab back his sheets. “And the spine problems aren’t great either. But any body is better than none, right?”

Mokuba smiled bigger. “Right.”

“In fact,” Noah said, closing his eyes and waving one finger in the air. “I’d even say this body is better than yours.”

“Really?” Mokuba snarked wetly. It was him. It was Noah. And he remembered. “And why’s that?”

“Because this body is mine,” Noah said. He smiled. “And that means I get a brother too.”

Mokuba took the last few steps to the edge of the bed and hugged Noah tight. Noah froze at first, but returned it.

And if either of them cried, the other didn’t mention it.

#

“Where’d you go?” Seto asked.

“Out,” Mokuba responded, sitting in Noah’s Australian hospital room.

Mokuba could hear Seto’s keyboard clicking away through the phone. “When are you gonna be back?”

“Not sure exactly.” Mokuba said, taking a bite of a vending machine granola bar. “Need to see what I can make move faster. Before the end of the week though.”

Seto grunted in acknowledgment. “This related to the funds for the people just appearing?”

“Yeah, there was an account that had some unusual activity. Wanted to check how the money was being used, and now I’m getting everything sorted out.”

“Good.”

The door to the room opened. Noah, in a wheelchair and being pushed by a nurse, raised his eyebrow.

“Talk to you later, Seto,” Mokuba said.

Another grunt.

Mokuba shut his phone.

Noah laughed. “So are we just not telling Seto I exist?”

“What can I say?” Mokuba said. He spread his hands wide, before standing up from his seat. “I think you’ll be a nice surprise.”

“I wasn’t under the impression Seto liked surprises,” Noah responded. He and the nurse got him situated in the bed again, and the nurse left. Mokuba dragged a chair next to the bed and sat down.

“What’d the doctor say?”

“That it’s good that I can feel my toes but I had fractures from the waist down so I probably not gonna want to spend a lot of my life walking.”

“Sorry.”

“Again, I’m alive. Already progress. And walking will be possible, it’ll probably just suck.” Noah smiled patting down at his legs. “Technically I’ve spent a good six years mostly sitting in a chair anyway.”

“I think that’s a little different.”

Noah hummed. He picked his book up from the end table. Apparently he’d spent the first few days in the hospital doing nothing but watching TV, and the staff was trying to reduce his screen time.

“You’re probably going to want to talk to the staff about getting me released,” Noah said. “Or transferred, or whatever we’re gonna do. I haven’t managed to get them to actually do anything I tell them.”

“Ah, the perks of having a giant company backing up what you say.”

Noah frowned, turning from his book to look at Mokuba. “What are we gonna do about Kaiba Corp.?”

Mokuba smirked, slumping down onto the bed. “I’m sure we can sic lawyers at each other later.”

#

“Hey Seto, guess what.” 

“What, Mokuba?”

“Hey Seto, guess what.”

Seto Kaiba looked up, and saw not one but two additional Kaibas in the doorway to his office.

He squinted.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Kaiba. You got another brother! That's good! Could definitely be worse.
> 
> I do not understand accounting to the level required to write this well BUT I have already spent many hours on this chapter, and had to work around ATMs not letting you leave memos on withdrawals like I thought they did. 
> 
> Eventually I'll move on to everyone meeting up but today is not that day.


End file.
